tricky
by conv. hearts
Summary: AU. The two of them would never have found him, if not for the miracle of coincidences and lazy maids. Now, they just have to figure out how to use him to find the real target - Itachi Uchiha.
1. Chapter 1

**tricky**

AU. The two of them would never have found him, if not for the miracle of coincidences and lazy maids. Now, they just have to figure out how to use him to find the real target. - slight PUSH crossover.

_Notes and explanation at the end._

**chapter one.**

"I still can't believe that you hired me to sniff out a Shadow," Karin muttered to Sasuke, ignoring the fact that he seemed more interested in his way-too-damn-expensive cup of coffee than what she had to say. That was how things usually went between the two of them, and although she'd gotten used to it, she wouldn't claim that she wasn't harboring secret hopes it might someday change, all on its own. After all, Sasuke was a big pile of sexy young man, and she was a smaller pile of viciously-attracted young woman, and it was about damn time that he decided to become her bitch. "You, of all people, should know that I can't _do _that."

Sasuke didn't answer for a moment, instead flicking his eyes around the dingy little café they were seated in. He'd picked it out, when she'd suggested that they find some damn food already, and it held two of the things Sasuke seemed to love most in a building: poor lighting and shady-looking clientele. She wasn't sure, exactly, why it was that he loved the shadier side of life so much - he certainly hadn't grown up that way, as far as she knew - but it was always the same deal: Sasuke wasn't a fine-dining type of boy, and she somehow doubted that he saw anything wrong with the little café, aside from the fact that it was filled with potential Threats.

As far as Karin was concerned, nobody there gave a damn about their conversation. Her traveling companion, rather predictably, would never believe that the people around them were innocent of wanting to stab them both in the backs. Sasuke, however, was relatively at home in places like this - which really wasn't saying much, because the boy had a constant aura of paranoia flickering around him - and therefore finished his check for eavesdroppers rather quickly. If they'd been somewhere _nice, _he might've kept her waiting for hours. "Keep your voice down. And you may not be able to find _him, _but I've already told you, Karin: there are people he's never without - "

"And what, you don't think he's shading them too? He knows you're looking for him, doesn't he?" Karin took in this particular brand of broody silence - Sasuke's eyes trained on her, his lip pulled back into just a bit of a sneer, and a feeling in the air that definitely said "hey, world, Karin's right _again" - _and ascertained that she'd won this five-minute-round of Reasonable Plotting. Her own lips twisting up into a smirk that was hopefully both smug and sexy as all get out, she snagged his cup out from under him and took a long drink of the coffee, before promptly spitting it back into the mug and wiping her fingers on her shorts, not entirely bothered by the fact that they would probably stain.

He drank his coffee _black, _of all things, and nobody had bothered to wash that mug properly since it had rolled off the factory lines. Twin disgust.

Since he didn't appear to be about to offer anything more enlightening, Karin slouched back in the vinyl booth and glanced around the café as well, although she did it more out of a need for inspiration than a paranoid feeling that some Enemy Of Sasuke was listening in on their only-slightly-suspicious conversation. They'd had stranger, more incriminating conversations before, of course, and they still hadn't been picked up by the bad guys or the government.

Karin wanted to knock on wood, but she was pretty sure there wasn't anything organic in a twenty-mile radius, so she settled for tapping her fingers against the pink tabletop. Making do, and all that. Also, Sasuke would probably have given her that "you're-an-idiot" look, and she was getting tired of the freaking _onslaught_ of those recently.

She'd known Sasuke since she was a kid; of course, back then, he had been That Pretty Boy Next Door and she had been the geek with glasses who didn't quite manage to hold up the most important geek archetype: being half as intelligent as That Pretty Boy Next Door, as her parents periodically reminded her. The two children never been particularly close, aside from occasionally getting pushed together at street parties and the like, and after Sasuke's brother had gone freaking nuts and murdered their father, mother, and an unlucky cousin who'd been spending the summer with the Uchihas, Sasuke had been whisked off to…somewhere. She wasn't quite sure where. An orphanage, probably, or a foster home, or distant relatives who _hadn't _been hacked into bits.

Well, that had been all fine and good, in a loose sense of the term, and Karin had grown up to find out that she was a Sniffer - a human tracking machine, capable of finding almost anybodyonce she'd gotten her hands on an object they'd spent at least a few minutes holding. She'd apparently inherited the ability from her father, who wasn't entirely pleased to find out that his daughter was a psychic, just like him. Something about occupational hazards; she hadn't paid much attention to his rantings.

Eventually, after a bit of thinking and the realization that, as a recent high school graduate, she was fucking _invincible, _she'd left home and started offering to find lost pets and runaway kids in a city halfway across the country from her hometown, for a price.

Not that she was ever stupid enough to let anybody know what she was; oh, no. Karin had known straight off the bat that psychic abilities were like a beacon to the less savory of the government officials: hey, look at me! I have supernatural powers! Why don't you come investigate how that happened, what's wrong with me, whether I might be the world's best new military tool?Yeah…_no. _Nobody was that stupid.

She'd been telling them all that she just had a way with animals, a way with kids - whatever the client of the week would believe, really. Some of her excuses had gotten wildly inventive; some of her _payments _had been wildly over-the-top.

And then, of course, it hadn't been long before some guy had dialed the number she'd left in fifty round-the-city periodicals, asking straight-up if she could sniff out a particular person for him. Although the use of "sniff" was, admittedly, more common among nonpsychics than one would've thought, Karin had agreed to meet the guy under the assumption that he was in on the world of psychic powers, just like she was - and lo and behold, she'd stepped into a Chinese Laundromat only to come face-to-face with Sasuke Uchiha, looking even prettier than ever before.

Of course she'd recognized him - hero-worship as a child had made her that she remembered him, and although his face had thinned out and he'd shot up like a dandelion, it was obvious that he was still very much the little boy who'd been carted away from a family crime scene.

He was after his brother, he said, who'd managed to evade the police for years. It turned out that Itachi had ended up joining a criminal gang of _very _powerful psychics, which lent him even more protection and immunity (and, Karin filled in on her own, _affluence) _than his own power alone.

Several more chats, absolutely no payment, and three months later, she found herself here, faced with a broody Sasuke who was probably rather upset about her defiling his coffee, on top of everything else. He was one of those people who dwelled on things, and she was starting to think that she was going to end up paying for that coffee, in one way or another, later that week.

"Sasuke, you know I'd find him, free of charge, if I could - but he's a Shadow, and we both know what that means: nothing. I could touch a lock of his _hair, _and I'll still be drawing a complete blank. I'm sorry, but I can't find him. Not to mention, you already said he's paranoid," _just like you, babe, _"which probably means that he constantly shades the people around him. What you need is a Watcher, Sasuke. I'm sorry I can't help you find him, at least not directly."

Karin finished her speech by looking back at him and folding her gloved hands on the table, waiting to see what would happen. Of course, she'd stay with him if possible - she _could _sniff out a Watcher for the guy, after all - but if he didn't want her here, well…

Sasuke was a Shadow too, after all - the trait was passed down through his family, apparently, just like Karin's own ability, which probably explained why her father had never mentioned any other psychics living in their neighborhood - and if he left when she was sleeping, or when her back was turned, she'd never be able to find him again. As much as she wanted to believe he wouldn't do that to her - after all, these three months had been close and friendly, in her eyes, and she'd been _so _good to him - Karin was no fool.

However, Sasuke met her eyes, and began to nod slowly - a plan, then? Sasuke was a prodigy, a genius, if you would, and it _had _been foolish of her to believe that he'd give up after just one failed idea! This was his family's murderer they were talking about, after all, and it was high time that the two of them brought Itachi Uchiha to justice. _Together. _"You can't find him directly. Of course. And he shades the people closest to him, there's no doubt about that. There has to be someone he doesn't bother to shade; someone he doesn't care about…someone _else _who could lead us right to the bastard."

He finished with one of Karin's favorite vicious grins on his face - one of the ones that he did his absolute best to show rarely, because emotion seemed to be a taboo when it came to the youngest Uchiha brother - and settled back in his booth as well, the defiled coffee absolutely forgotten. For now.

Karin couldn't help herself; she leaned forward and pulled her hair up out of her eyes, because it appeared to be deep-thinking time, and she couldn't be bothered with something like her _hair _when it was deep-thinking time. That, and she was back in business - no need for pesky Watchers, after all! Watchers were pretty full of themselves, at any rate, and she couldn't imagine that Sasuke would want to spend any time around one. "It can't be Hoshigaki, of course - "

"No, he shades Hoshigaki. I'm sure of it; they're partners, and that's well-known information. We need to know which of the other members he spends time around. He may be powerful, but he's an asshole, so he wouldn't waste time on shading someone he believes is useless - useless, or a weak link in every sense of the word. Out of all of them, there must be at least one of them that he leaves unguarded - one of them that will lead me to him."

Karin bit her lip. It was true, that as far as she knew, Itachi Uchiha didn't have much time for anyone with a weaker skill set than his own, but would he really be so careless as to leave them with a pathway right to him? Sasuke was a genius, sure, but Itachi was the older brother of a formerly-famous family: a family that had once been _filled _with geniuses. Wouldn't he have thought of this?…Probably. But she decided against voicing that opinion; it would probably sound too much like respect of his older brother, when it reached Sasuke's ears, and that was one of the biggest mistakes you could make around the guy. "You don't have anything belonging to a member, do you?"

Too much to hope, and if he did, wouldn't he have told her already? Then again, this was _Sasuke, _as she kept having to remind herself, and Sasuke very rarely did things in a manner that would seem logical to anyone else. He had his own thought pattern, and it stuck to it like a well-loved holiday tradition.

A moment of silence passed between them, before he decided to grace her question with an answer. "Of course not. I would've already told you to search out the owner, and it's not like the Akatsuki just goes around leaving souvenirs behind. Think, Karin."

Karin was about to snap back at him - she _was _trying to help, after all, and as much as she would've liked him to gain a bit of appreciation on his own, some hunks just needed a strong woman to sort them out, and that was slowly becoming Obtain Sasuke Plan Number 5 - when the waitress sashayed up, and pointedly slapped her hand down on the bill. It had been sitting there since before Karin had finished her piece of pie, well over an hour ago, and had been thoroughly ignored by both Karin and Sasuke.

"I _hope _everything is to your satisfaction," the woman purred, shooting loaded glances between the two of them. Evidently, it was time for the slightly scruffy teenagers to get out and open table space for slightly better paying customers. Sasuke's face reverted to that careful, blank expression he favored so much, while he tossed down the appropriate bills, and the two of them slid out of the booth as soon as the waitress had scampered off, her meager tip having earned Sasuke a heated glare and a matching sneer.

"You could've given her a _little _bit more, you know. She was a pretty good waitress, for the first forty-five minutes." Karin pointed out as they pushed through the café's glass doors, the sudden ringing of bells assaulting her ears. Sasuke just grunted; apparently, without his coffee and a comfortable place to sit, he was no longer in the mood for conversation.

The two of them walked along the city streets in a state of relative peace; Karin couldn't think of anything mundane to bring up, and Sasuke never started small talk on his own. Hell, he barely contributed to small talk when Karin was the one who started it all off. It was a bit depressing, actually, especially since he'd been such a bright kind of kid, but it had been a while, and he'd been through the violent death of his entire family.

She could forgive moments of broodiness; it was the moments of outright assholery that usually got her up in arms.

The two of them were staying in a hotel not far from the café, courtesy of Sasuke's hefty inheritance. They'd come here based on a contact's certainty that "_Sasuke, your brother was here, I freaking literally bumped into him on the street, believe me!"_ Naturally, the contact hadn't seen Itachi again after that, and Karin had a sneaking suspicion that the blonde-haired dolt hadn't even seen the real Itachi. However, Sasuke had some weird bond with his idiot contact, which had prevented Karin from ripping the boy a well-earned new one for wasting their time.

The silent walk, filled mostly by Karin mentally reflecting on the many idiots Sasuke had the charity to associate with, ended quickly, and before Karin really knew it, they were in the hotel room, having made it past the desk clerk, who believed they were a pair of cousins. Karin had _wanted _to use "newlyweds" as a cover story, but Sasuke was surprisingly adamant that their hotel room have two beds.

Hence, the annoying family cover.

"I'm taking a shower," Sasuke announced almost as soon as they'd made it past the threshold, ducking into the small bathroom. "And locking the door."Paranoia. It was terrible. He probably needed special medication; if he weren't so _paranoid, _Karin would've gladly taken him to the kind of doctor that could sort that out. But then again, if he weren't so paranoid, it wouldn't be necessary. A dilemma, to be certain.

Once the door had clicked shut behind him, and Karin had listened for the second tell-tale click - just in case he was terribly sexually repressed (definitely) and was expecting her to go in there and free him from that repression (unfortunately not) - she headed over to the beds, flopping onto the one nearest the TV and staring pointedly at the blank screen.

It did not respond to her mental command that it turn on.

Thus, the search for the remote began. Karin, having laid down already, did not want to get up, so she searched what she could reach first: the pillow, the pillowcase, the many rumpled blankets that came to being as a result of Sasuke's habitual tossing and turning, and underneath Karin herself. Nothing of interest came up, the shower was still blasting, and the TV was still refusing to turn on purely because she had telepathically ordered it to.

Still not wanting to move too much, she leaned over the edge of the bed and began to feel between the metal box-whatever that came standard with hotel beds and the bed's filthy skirt. Carpet, carpet, an oddly scratchy patch of carpet…and then her fingers brushed up against something small and thin that she was pretty sure didn't belong there. Although it certainly wasn't the remote, it was a good testament to the poor cleaning job done on their hotel room, and Karin picked it up more out of curiosity than anything else, quickly recognizing it as a thin piece of cardstock.

She brought the little card up to her face, squinting her eyes more out of habit than anything else - her glasses were pretty damn powerful, after all. The piece of cardstock was the size of a business card - in fact, it _was _a business card, for a local art shop she'd passed more than once while snooping around the city with Sasuke. It must have been from the previous occupants; Karin herself had never set foot inside the shop, and Sasuke wasn't exactly the artistic type.

Usually, Karin didn't sniff things out of pure curiosity. It usually led to her finding out things she didn't want to know, like what tourists did in their alone time. Anyway, this was just an art supply store's business card; it was unlikely to yield anything mildly interesting. Artistic guys really weren't her type - and if it was a girl, well, that was a complete downer no matter _what _the girl was like.

Then again, Karin still didn't want to move, she still hadn't found the remote control, and the television still wasn't turning on just because she wanted it to. Sniffing the card _would _be a way to keep herself entertained, however slightly, and something was just telling her that it would be a good idea. Intuition, or something - Sasuke would have laughed at her, if he'd seen her lying there or been able to hear what she was thinking.

Well, thank God he couldn't. She tugged off the glove on her left hand - kept there usually so she wouldn't accidentally sniff things; it could be a mind-melting experience, when everything you touched assaulted you with a candid view of what its previous owner was up to - and delicately laid her fingers across the top face of the card. A second's wait, and then it came, a familiar blast of color and images that tore her into a silent kind of movie -

_A blonde man, in a hotel room, up to his elbows in clay - a little bird was taking shape in front of him - he was swaying slightly, jamming, it seemed, with headphones stuck in both of his ears - the hotel room was nice, ten times better than Karin's own, with red wallpaper and two neatly-made beds - he was at the desk, the next maid to see that mess would no doubt have a heart attack - the door was opening, she could see it out of the corner of her eye - a flash of red-tinted eyes, flash of scarred face, flash of black - _

And the mental movie gone, more abruptly than it had started. Karin was left there in a state of complete shock and surprise, draped across a hotel room bed with a business card clenched between her fingers. After a second, she pulled her glove back on, purely out of habit, and then shifted the card back into her hand.

It couldn't be - that was the weirdest kind of coincidence, luck that nobody could ever have expected to have, least of all Karin _herself , _because Karin had never set much store by luck or experienced it herself _- _

She barely registered that the door to the bathroom had finally swung open, and that Sasuke had wandered out clothed only in a towel, which normally would have claimed all of her attention and then some, or sent her to her own happy, peaceful demise.

This was _impossible, _because shit like this just didn't _happen…_

Sasuke didn't appear to notice that there was something going on. He rarely did notice when Karin had just experienced something amazing. "Karin? Karin. Get the hell off my bed."

She turned her head to face him, eyes wide, and brandished the card in his face. He caught her wrist with his free hand - she _did _process that if he'd bothered to use the other one, which was clutching his towel, several of her favorite dreams could have come true, although it didn't appear that her luck was going to hold very well - and squinted at the small writing, obviously a bit confused.

"Sasuke! I found him. _I found Itachi._"

* * *

_Oh, Karin, it's not quite that simple. We're only one chapter in._

_Yup, a new project. This one is guaranteed to have longer chapters, an obligatory Ino, a better storyline, a bit of romance, and pre-plotting. Not to mention, it's going to follow up on EACH AND EVERY FUCKING PLOTTHREAD, and include less blatant angst/crack! This thing is crazy-plotted for several more chapters, and I've already decided what EPIC PLOT TWISTS and whatnot to toss in, so the cast of characters is large and random. :D We won't just be sticking with Karin's point of view, oh no._

_This is a mild crossover of Naruto and the 2009 movie PUSH. The one with Dakota Fanning and some other people, like Djimon Han-something. Excellent movie. You have to watch it three times, and then check out the deleted scenes, before you get half of it. Like Stowe's storyline. BUT LOL GO WATCH IT IF YOU WANNA SEE A SURLY, DRUNK DAKOTA FANNING. Cassie is by far the best character she's ever played._

_You don't need to have seen PUSH to understand any of this, however; all I'm borrowing are the psychic powers themselves and their names, which I plan to explain thoroughly. I'm also taking slight liberties with the psychic abilities, so seeing the movie probably won't help you much, lawl._

_Feel free to ask questions. Fuck knows I write some confusing shit._

_I probably characterize every-fucking-one oddly. :c Baaw. If it bothers you that much, point out specifically what you have a problem with, and I'll either make a mental note to change it or explain why I do that to the poor character. WHOOT YEAH._

_I also DO NOT have a beta, which I kind of want, but none of my friends like Naruto, lawl._

_(I'm also trying to cut back on my author's notes, so this should be the longest one. Fingers crossed.)_


	2. Chapter 2

**tricky**

AU. The two of them would never have found him, if not for the miracle of coincidences and lazy maids. Now, they just have to figure out how to use him to find the real target. - slight PUSH crossover.

warning: in about 2,000 words, you're going to be hit with the f-bomb about fifteen times, because one of the character is _not_ pleased. This should be the last instance of fuck-overload; at least, for quite some time. ;D

**chapter two.**

"You _what?"_

Karin saved her arm from Sasuke's slowly tightening grip, and continued to wave the business card around under his nose. Normally, she was sure he would've smacked it away, but this was _progress _in the cause. "I found Itachi, that's what! This right here, _this _little mass-produced piece of _sheer gold, _just allowed me to get a second's glimpse at your brother's face - "

Sasuke nimbly plucked the card out of her hand, eyes roving over it quickly and his expression quickly turning sour - or, at least, as sour as a facial expression of Sasuke's could become. "An art supply store? Itachi isn't - "

"Not Itachi," she told him breathlessly, snatching it away from him. "Another Akatsuki - I was watching him, when Itachi walked into the room. I _saw _him, though, just for a second, before his shading kicked in. But they're in a hotel! A hotel with red wallpaper, Sasuke, and the blonde - "

Sasuke groaned and walked away before she could so much as finish her sentence, grabbing a pair of pants and a t-shirt from his open backpack on the way. In a rather irritating boy-manner, he lived out of the damn thing, no matter how long they stayed somewhere. "Karin, dammit, you said you _found _him. Do you have any idea how many hotels in the damn _country _have red wallpaper? Unless you saw a sign, or a piece of paper _clearly stating _the name of the goddamn hotel, we still don't have anything, unless that card's scent sticks."

He then proceeded to head back into the bathroom and slam the door behind him, leaving Karin to smolder silently. It was _progress, _wasn't it, and hadn't the situation seemed totally hopeless just an hour or so ago? It was true that it wouldn't be much longer before the card lost the blonde Akatsuki's "scent," as it were, but this was still _something _- the blonde Akatsuki had been in this hotel room. And this hotel room, as well as the one he was currently staying in, had two beds…but he wasn't Itachi's partner, was he? Wouldn't it be all over the news if a criminal as famous as Kisame Hoshigaki, Itachi's usual partner, had been apprehended or killed?

The fact of the matter was that the members of Akatsuki, and the gang itself, really _were _famous, even if the psychic undercurrent to everything they did was kept well under wraps. They didn't operate using only their psychic abilities, after all - especially since the only psychics with _real _offensive abilities were Bleeders and Pushers, the first of which was a difficult ability to control, and the second of which was _painfully_ rare - and the Akatsuki had therefore gained quite the reputation as a terroristic gang due to their love of explosions, murder, and all-around Mafia-style mischief.

If one of them, especially the _very _well-known Hoshigaki had been apprehended, well, the authorities would want to put that out into the mainstream as soon as possible. So, no, it was pretty unlikely that this blonde guy was Itachi's new partner - but then why was Itachi in his hotel room? Who was the other bed for?

Karin groaned dramatically and let herself fall backwards, glaring upside-down at the still-off TV. Too many questions, and no peaceful distractions. This was freaking _hard._

Freaking Sasuke, and his freaking undeniable sexiness.

If it weren't for that, she'd be _so _gone. _So _gone.

Definitely.

At any rate, she could now hear the tell-tale sound of a cheap blow-dryer emanating from the bathroom Sasuke had just barricaded himself in, the TV was still resisting the glory of her mind power, and their hotel room was a bleak mass of _nothing interesting _otherwise. Sure, she could've continued looking for the remote - that _had _yielded something interesting, after all - but that was probably a lost cause, and she had a bad feeling she'd implode if she tried to figure this Akatsuki-issue out without more information.

But then again…her ability wasn't exactly one that could be used at any given moment, and it was possible that they didn't have a very large window of opportunity this time.

Flipping the card around in her gloved fingers, Karin glanced at the bathroom door again. Maybe Sasuke was right, and the card would lose it's scent soon - which meant that she needed to try and find more information as quickly as possible, brain-harming as it was quickly turning out to be. But still. For the cause, for the cause. And for Sasuke.

Mind made up, she sat the card on the comforter and ripped off her glove, taking a deep breath. Here she went.

Eyes closed, Karin settled her fingertips over the face of the card, and waited with bated breath -

- and there was nothing. Itachi was still shading the blonde artist. Dammit.

Had the card just lost its scent, she still would've gotten split-second flashes, at the very least. But, the longer Itachi was with the blonde artist, shading him from Karin's view, the more time the card would have to lose the final vestiges of his scent, and that was sure to kill any plans she and Sasuke managed to come up with once Mr. Sexy left the _damn_ bathroom.

Growling to herself, Karin flopped back on the bed and tried to concentrate.

The sound of Sasuke's blow-dryer really wasn't helping. God, he was hot, but _god, _he was more of a diva than Karin herself.

They needed more information on the blonde Akatsuki. Karin was _sure _he was an Akatsuki - just something about him had given her that idea, maybe; she had a hunch, and Karin's hunches tended to be right, if only because she didn't admit to the ones that were wrong. And if he was an Akatsuki…

…then he was probably on the internet. Praise be to the geeks who had slaved away to bring them such precious technology.

Moxie restored, Karin flipped off the bed and started to rummage through her own pack - yeah, yeah, she mocked Sasuke (mentally) for living out of his, but sometimes she just couldn't be bothered to unpack, and they hadn't planned to be here long anyway - and pulled out her ancient laptop, punching the on button and snapping her fingers while she waited for it to boot up.

After several painfully long minutes, the login screen had appeared in all its glory. Karin's fingers skittered across the keys almost before the page had finished loading - her password was _not _Sasuke's name, contrary to a belief he held fast to - and her desktop popped up around the same time the bathroom door was flung open once again.

"What are you doing now?" Sasuke asked, now fully clothed and with perfectly dried-and-spiked hair. Apparently, his daily hair care ritual had calmed him to the point where he w_asn't _going to mock Karin or otherwise bring her down. She just motioned for him to seat himself beside her, where she'd crashed on the floor, and after a moment of hesitation, he did so. "Does this hotel even _have _free Wi-Fi?"

"Here's hoping," Karin told him, scooting just a little bit closer and splaying her legs out in front of her, never one to pass up on a chance to reel her hot-if-damaged partner in. "Looks like it; it's connecting. I figured that we might as well look up the Akatsuki member I saw; maybe it'll help us, you know?"

Sasuke didn't answer, but Karin judged from the rather intent way he was looking at the screen that he agreed. Pulling up the internet homepage, she quickly typed "blonde akatsuki" into the search bar, earning an amused snort from Sasuke.

"I don't know what else to call him!" She defended herself, glowering at him without really meaning it. As per the usual, he just raised his eyebrow at her and declined to comment. Really, the guy didn't talk unless he was plotting or outright mocking.

The page took a few moments to load. Karin blamed cheap, slow, free hotel internet. However, as soon as the results popped up, she was well aware that they had hit the jackpot. _Over _450,000 results, and all she'd been hoping for was a few brief news reports. By the look of it, there were a couple _shrines _dedicated to this guy, although none of them seemed to use his name.

"Damn," Sasuke murmured, apparently pulled out of his silence by the collection of links possibly leading to his brother, "He's been sighted more often that Itachi - click that one, on the top."

Karin obliged, settling the cursor over a news report titled MASS CARNAGE IN NIGHTCLUB; TERRORIST GROUP SUSPECTED.

By the look of it, nearly forty people had been killed - rather brutally - in a nightclub frequented by the less savory citizens of a nearby city. The report stated that while the people had, in some cases, been all but torn to shreds, the only structural damage had been several panes of glass shattering. Authorities were, rather predictably, baffled by how the deed had been carried out, but certain that a man caught on security tape - that is, before the cameras' lenses shattered - was the culprit.

The grainy black-and-white photo did indeed look like Karin and Sasuke's target, and neither of them was baffled about how he'd managed to do such a thing.

"Bleeder," Sasuke finally voiced what they were both thinking, eyes still flickering quickly over the print on the screen. "He must be a Bleeder - and a damn good one, if he can kill that many people in a short amount of time. I've never met a Bleeder who could control themselves that well."

"Must have hellacious lungs, too," Karin muttered, speed-clicking through a torrent of related pages. She avoided the shrines - internet creeps were one of her biggest pet peeves, and she doubted they'd be of much help. "Spotted overseas…suspected in the murder of a mayor and his family…evaded police about fifty miles from here…He's not exactly trying to avoid the public eye, is he? I thought the Akatsuki did their best to stay anonymous."

Sasuke shrugged, and to Karin's delight, scooted just a bit closer. Unfortunately, it seemed to be purely so he could get a better look at the laptop's screen. "Maybe it's a personal choice. When you have a group of psychics that powerful, all clustered together, they must get hard to control sometimes. There are more important battles to fight than anonymity, I bet."

"In that case, why have we not heard of him before?" Karin grumbled, clicking the X at the top of her screen and beginning to shut down the laptop. "If he's so famous?"Sasuke was silent for a few minutes, before he finally muttered, "I never thought to look for anyone but Itachi or Hoshigaki. Until you showed up, there wasn't a point."

Karin felt a warm feeling spread through her stomach; Sasuke never complimented her or commented on her necessity to the plan, whether it was direct or indirect.

But then, Sasuke stood and mumbled that he was going to get more ice, and the warm feeling managed to flee the room right after him.

* * *

Temari wanted her damn bus to show up, and she wanted it to fucking show up _right now._

Honestly, what the hell was this? She had _important _things to do - saving lives and kicking the asses of wanted criminals, most prominently - and the damn bus driver couldn't even motivate itself to show up to the _damn _bus stop on time. What the hell kind of service was this, anyway? Why didn't everyone just _stop using _the damn public transport?Oh, right. They were_ fucking idiots _like her and her family, who hadn't bothered to get themselves their _own _vehicle, because they lived in the city and thought it was _pointless, _or hadn't wanted to waste the never-important _money. _Damn _it. _

Teeth worrying her bottom lip, Temari adjusted her shoulder bag once more, glaring a little too fiercely at one of the other passengers-to-be in the _too fucking small _waiting area. She was running out of _time, _and she knew it far too well. After all, it had been what, three days?Yeah, three days since her _fucking stupid _little brother had disappeared from home, right after the _fucking annoying _phone calls from some _fucked-up _organization had started coming at all hours of the day and night. For some reason, they'd all been creepy guys asking about Gaara, wanting to talk to Gaara - and she'd never allowed them to, because, dammit, _older siblings didn't let their younger siblings join gangs, _and no innocent school group verbally stalked a teenage boy_. _After a week of the calls, she'd introduced mandatory call-screening into the house, but that only worked so well when one of your brothers could fuck with your mind, and the other one didn't listen to you on the best of days.

And now Gaara was _gone, _which either meant that he'd been kidnapped or he'd run off _willingly - _fucking unlikely, that second option was, because Gaara _hated _people of all shapes and sizes, and hadn't wanted anything to do with the creeps - and it was Temari's job to get him back. It was always her job to save the day; maybe she would've sent Kankuro, if he'd inherited the family psychic gene, but the hard facts were that he hadn't, she and Gaara both had, and Kankuro was pretty much useless in comparison as a result.

Crossing and uncrossing her legs irritably, Temari checked the clock on her cell phone for what felt like the hundredth time, and proceeded to try to call Gaara for what _had _to have been the hundredth time. She was sent immediately to voicemail, and managed to scare a single mother and her small child out of the bus stop, thanks to the flurry of swearing that managed to tear its way through her clenched teeth and thinned-out lips.

This wasn't _like _Gaara. Sure, he was a little strange, never slept, could _do _things to your mind that anyone who didn't live with him would've found unimaginable, but he was a good kid, deep down in the darkest recesses of his heart. And that's _all _he was - Temari's kid brother, the one she had to protect no matter what, because even if he could theoretically do it on his own, that wasn't how family worked.

And now he was gone, and she felt like she'd failed him - and fuck, fuck it all -

Temari began to rub at her eyes furiously - dammit, not here, not now, not _ever, _because hadn't she mocked anyone else who dared to cry in front of her? - and bit out a harsh, transparent _"allergies" _to the young man sitting beside her, who was starting to look like he might try to comfort her. She didn't _need _comforting, dammit.

She needed the bus and she needed her brother, and fuck it all, but she was _stronger _than this.

It was clearly divine intervention - or at least, it would have been if Temari had believed in anything divine - when the bus finally screeched to a halt in front of the stop. Temari stood, jostled a few people out of her way, and paid with exact change, before crashing into a seat at the very front of the vehicle and glaring death at anyone who dared to think they could sit near her.

She was going to save her little brother, and she was going to do it as soon as possible. After all, Matsuri had promised that her visions showed Gaara in a particular city on the next Monday, and Matsuri had _also _promised to update Temari each and every time the future changed. Matsuri may have been an occasional annoyance, and a nosy neighbor to boot, but there was no doubting the girl's ability as a Watcher.

Temari settled her head against the window of the bus and immersed herself in planning and a mental recap of the past few days, completely unaware that if she'd turned her head, just once, she might've locked eyes with two people who knew precisely where her little brother had run off to, and why.

Of course, how could she have known any of that? _She _couldn't tell the future, after all.

* * *

_If you can spot the word I totally made up, you can have a cookie or something. Then again, it could be a real word, and my Works dictionary could just be a piece of shit. Hmmmmm. _

_This chapter was much shorter than the last; it was also painfully expositional, and I couldn't let that continue for too much longer, because seriously, who needs that? Sorry, if you, for some reason, do need that._

_As for chapter 3, well. Suffice to say that we meet several fun new characters, which is motivation enough for me to write quickly and verbosely. Three guesses who they are!_

_Yes, yes, for anyone who's actually seen PUSH, the Pop boys appear to be perfectly in control of their power. STFU. I'm making things interesting. :D_

_ONE MORE THING. _

_I'm never sure whether Kankuro or Temari is the oldest sand sibling, and all the websites I've checked have conflicting information. So. Tell me, which do YOU think is older?_

_Next time: ACTION. YES._

_IT'S STILL OKAY TO ASK QUESTIONS, LOL._


	3. Chapter 3

**tricky**

AU. The two of them would never have found him, if not for the miracle of coincidences and lazy maids. Now, they just have to figure out how to use him to find the real target. - slight PUSH crossover.

_warning: In this chapter, I follow my usual Deidara pattern, and completely break my Konan trend. Sort of._

_And, because I'm not exactly the world's premier expert on what happens when you do certain stupid things with motorcycles, Imma have to ask that you suspend your disbelief just a bit, mkay? Mkay. Or suggest a better means to my end, which I will gladly steal (credit) and edit this chapter with._

_(This is why I need a betaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.)_

_The Akatsuki have dirty mouths. They should clean 'em up. Lintlickers._

_…and uh, crudely implied PeinKona? And we're also getting into kind-of-subtle hints of yaoi, because it's not really possible to write Akatsuki otherwise?_

**chapter 3**

Sirens could really grate on a guy's nerves.

Deidara gritted his teeth and dared to toss a glance back over his shoulder; about ten assorted authority-types were making the chase after him, and at least one of the cars hot on his heels was the kind designated specifically to ANBU; flashing silver lights and unmarked sides, but a back big enough to fit an entire goddamn _squad _of the psychic officers. _Fuck. _

He really, really did not need them to crash his little getaway party and drag him kicking and screaming - in a manly fashion, of course - off to their little psychic-prison. Or _regular _prison, for that matter.

The blonde whipped his head back around to face front and tightened his grip on the handles of his - recently stolen - motorcycle just slightly, blue eyes roving over his options as buildings, pedestrians, and uninvolved vehicles whipped by him at over a hundred miles per hour. He didn't know this city well, and hadn't really bothered to listen when Itachi had briefed him on boss-approved plans and routes in this kind of emergency, and therefore, he wasn't _entirely _sure what his boss-approved options were. So, that left him one adrenaline-approved option, and, naturally, it was his favorite way to go in any situation:Improvise them to death. Or, as this case was probably going to turn out, improvise _himself _to near-death.

The new plan resonating quite nicely within the confines of his brain, Deidara kicked his speed up twenty notches - pushing the bike's abilities to the very edge of the proverbial safe zone - and swerved dangerously, cutting off a convertible whose driver was almost more creative when it came to obscenities than Hidan was. Although Deidara would have dearly loved to flip the bastard the bird, removing his hands from the handlebars at that particular moment was classified as either _suicide _or _last resort _in his books, so he settled for deliberately weaving in and out of traffic directly in front of the asshole in the convertible. At least he was in a better position to fuck the guy - and the cops - over, now.

He could still hear the sirens screeching, wailing, grating on his _every last fucking nerve - _but he was just back from a mission, he was due to head off on a new one as soon as he reported back in to Pein, and he really didn't have time for this bullshit. Pein could get pissy when he was kept waiting.

In retrospect, Deidara realized offhandedly, he could have avoided the situation easily, had he just laid a _bit _lower when he was taking out that unfortunate politician who'd pissed the boss off, but, well, he'd been in a hurry and he'd been just a bit pissed himself, so -

Deidara was swiftly reminded that he could reminisce about what got him into this mess _later, _as in the middle of his - really fucking inconvenient, now that his head was out of the clouds and he could think properly - _reverie, _or whatever, one of the cops who happened to be on an eerily similar bike to his own had caught up to the fleeing Akatsuki, and appearing to be getting ideas.

And, as much a fan as Deidara was of free thinking, some people couldn't be allowed to get ideas. Sasori had once suggested, a long, long time ago, that Deidara himself was one of them.

Selfish, stupid bastard.

At any rate, this cop's arrival _completely _justified - who was he kidding? Deidara never really needed to justify his own actions to himself, although Pein sometimes got twitchy after particularly messy actions - Deidara's decision to take a proverbial leap of faith, and hope like hell that his backup was nearby, that his backup team included Kakuzu, and that Kakuzu was not in pissy man-bitch mode.

Teeth gritted even tighter than before, Deidara took a quick, psuedo-deep breath to steady himself, and jerked his handlebars quickly to the side, before releasing his hands with a good-luck curse.

As planned, the front wheel of his bike slammed into the front wheel of the cop's, and, sort-of as planned, Deidara was thrown a good distance away, thrown _clear,_ from the impact area by the bucking machine. Well - as clear as possible; he hit the ground dangerously close to a brick wall, back scraping across the alley and at _least _one arm bone snapping clean thanks to the force with which he'd hit the ground; however, he noticed through a hazy sort of delirium that had begun setting in almost as soon as his head had met the asphalt, the cop from the bike appeared to be either unconscious or dead on the shoulder, and the idiots he worked with didn't appear to have figured out just where Deidara had landed - at least, not yet.

Deidara certainly didn't need to use his psychic abilities to make waves.

But, with every second that ticked by, sluggish concern was starting to rise, centimeter by centimeter, in the back of his mind - there was a possibility that there _was _no backup, which meant that this gamble would easily (certainly) be his last, and there was an even more concerning possibility that his backup hadn't _noticed _his daring move - but before he could think too hard about that, wonder if he'd wanted this result or if panic was worth his dissipating time - he always got just a _bit _sentimental when he was near death, starting thinking about childhood and immortality, monsters under the bed and sunglasses at night, all the things that should have been panic and usually weren't, because he was a person who shouldn't get ideas -

A snarling voice washed over him from above, along with all-too familiar snickers, although both seemed to be muffled by the time they hit his muzzy ears. "You fucking _brat, _one of these days, Pein is going to let us watch you _die _after these fucking stupid stunts."

Deidara squinted his eyes at the hazy - darkening, and if Kakuzu didn't hurry up and stitch him, they might disappear completely - shapes that were standing just above him, and managed to tug a cocksure smirk onto his own face. At least, he was pretty sure that he looked as cocksure as he was quickly beginning to feel once again. "Until…then, yeah?"

Kakuzu didn't respond, although his partner's snickers had descended into full-out giggles, and then next thing Deidara knew, rough hands were seizing his head, while a slightly softer pair of hands - the giggles got even closer, and Deidara strongly suspected that Hidan hadn't already spoken because he was too preoccupied with his mirth - fastened themselves around his mouth.

"Fucking police'll be here any minute, they're not as stupid as you think - and ANBU, damn you, Deidara, you'll have to suffer with that arm until we get back."

With those pleasing statements, Kakuzu tightened his grip on the back of Deidara's skull, and the young blonde was instantly - _forcibly _- reminded of why Hidan covering his mouth was so, so necessary, damn _it, _but he hated this stitching business, no matter how convenient it was, because - hands on his mouth, yes, a good thing -

After all, the police were after them - him - already, and police tended to check on instances of screaming in alleyways; Deidara - only managing to hate himself slightly - lost consciousness around the time one of them tossed him over their shoulders.

His lip was sporting a fresh cut from his own teeth, but his head surprisingly clear. Fucking miracle workers, those Stitches.

**xxx**

Hours later, Deidara woke up sprawled on a rough-fabric'd couch in someone's hotel room, one hand tangled in his own hair and the other scraping along the deep red carpet. He noticed a bit academically, detachedly - after he had pushed himself up and shoved his hair out of his eyes - that the pain was gone for the most part, although an ache still remained in his left arm and the very back of his brain.

But other than that, he was fine - like he'd known he would be. Stupid fucking near-death thoughts; they never failed to show up, when he took a chance like that (which was probably more often than it should have been), and they never failed to embarrass him later, despite the fact that no one else could possibly know about them. _He _knew, and that was all that mattered in the end, because no one was a harsher critic of Deidara than the blonde artist himself.

Before he could brood too much longer, Hidan burst through the door in a way that almost made it seem like he'd kicked it in, somehow - and Deidara was _perfectly _aware that _that _hadn't happened, so there was a good chance he hadn't quite been healed of _all _the head-injury side effects - and tossed a wad of wax paper at the blonde, before settling his hands onto his hips and beginning to speak in an obnoxiously loud voice that assaulted Deidara's migraine in all the worst ways. Definitely not healed all the way. "Hey, pussy, you're fuckin' awake now? Damn, you slept for like - fuckin' ages. Like, what the hell are you? Malibu-fuckin'-Barbie, gettin' her damn beauty sleep? Seriously. Pein's pissed, and you have another fuckin' mission - same fuckin' mission you already know about, y'know. He wants that little Pusher bastard, so - you know. Get up off your ass and go _find _him. Seriously."

Deidara didn't respond for a moment, mentally sifting through the barrage of expletives and pointless insults before he made it to the core of the statement. Right. His mission to find some redheaded stepchild or something who happened to be able to fuck your mind up just as skillfully as Pein himself. Joy. And until he left, he was stuck with Hidan - all the more reason to _get to it, _because Hidan was best in small doses, and his laughter from earlier had sucked away almost all of Deidara's goodwill towards him.

"…what does this have to do with my mission?" Deidara finally asked the now-disinterested Hidan, who was searching the hotel room's desk for, Deidara assumed, implements he could turn into impromptu weapons - a favorite pastime of (unfortunately, because Deidara hated _all _these bastards nowadays, pretty much, and didn't want to have things in _common _with them, for the most part) both of the young Akatsuki members.

Hidan's head snapped up - Deidara could almost _see _his focus zeroing in on the little wax paper ball that the artist was brandishing a little gingerly at him - and proceeded to look lazily affronted. At the very least, he _tried _to look lazily affronted, but it came across more so as just plain bitchy. Most of his facial expressions did. "_Food, _dumb shit. I fucking try to do something _fucking _nice for one _goddamn _time, and, little bitch that you are, you don't even fucking _thank me. _Damn. Asshole."

After a quick pause, in which Deidara traded glances between Hidan and the ball of wax paper, Hidan let out an indignant, exasperated huff, and crossed the room. Ripping the ball from Deidara's hands, he held it out and tore off the first few layers, revealing chocolate icing and a mountain of rainbow sprinkles. "It's a fucking doughnut, seriously, so just - eat it."

Reminding himself that Hidan couldn't get away with murdering a comrade, because Pein would flip his ever-lovin' _shit, _and nobody liked Pein when his shit was flipped, Deidara contented himself with the realization that, at the very most, Hidan had probably done something disgusting to the doughnut, which he might or might not enlighten the blonde to after a few bites had been taken. And, hey, disgusting was disgusting, but Deidara had _probably _eaten much worse. Hell, Hidan had probably _given _Deidara much worse.

…those first few months in Akatsuki had really been hell.

Then again, Hidan had a doughnut of his own, Deidara was hungry, and the two of them were obligated to have some kind of…fucked-up camaraderie, considering that they were the only two members of Akatsuki who shared a hobby, seeing as Hidan was digging in the desk for impromptu weapons once again - his attention seemed to be almost entirely focused on a set of pens engraved with the hotel's name, although his eyes kept flickering towards Deidara.

(And, Deidara thought privately as he ripped into the icing-slathered confection and Hidan's eyes focused themselves on the pens fully, they also shared the _best fucking ability _out there, because nobody else could really cause property and physical damage the way Deidara Inoue and Hidan Uotani could. Not that he'd ever admit that he found Hidan's past achievements artistic and awesome out _loud; _Hidan had his moments and they were sort-of two-of-a-kind, but…he was _Hidan, _and he'd never again shut up about it, and that laughing earlier had been more annoying than the sound of sirens.)

After a few minutes of rare, blessed silence, Deidara was licking the remaining chocolate off his fingers and Hidan was fashioning…something deadly creative out of the pens and a few paperclips he'd managed to get his hands on.

"Is everyone else in the suite?" Deidara finally asked, standing up and cracking his back and neck.

"Yup. All the little peons are hiding out in the big asshole's suite. Better hurry. Fucker's gonna kick everyone out sooner or later, so he can fuck that bitch Konan or something."

"…right," Deidara mumbled, choosing not to bring up all the reasons that sentence would have sent Hidan into a world of hurt _had _their boss been present. "…thanks for the doughnut, yeah."

Hidan didn't respond. Deidara figured that was just as well.

The Akatsuki "homebase," as it was, moved around every few months, and depending on several factors (most importantly, the importance of the member, and the amount of trust Pein placed in them) members either followed the base or simply reported to it from their own homes. Deidara, not having a place of his own and not being the _most _loyal member of the group, was one of the ones who followed the boss wherever he chose to go, and he did this mostly against his will.

This time, the homebase was this nice hotel in some shitty city, and Pein was staying in the nicest suite he'd been able to acquire for himself and his _co-worker, _Konan Itakura. As per the tradition, the other traveling members of Akatsuki - this time, almost everyone had tagged along, although Zetsu and the runt of the litter, Tobi, were conspicuously absent - had chosen, for the most part, to camp out in his suite.

After all, it was _nicer _than the crappy rooms he'd snatched up for them - thanks largely to Kakuzu, their stingy money-handler, who didn't have the balls to tell Pein he couldn't have the suite he wanted but had _no _issues with denying the other members a few creature comforts.

Deidara swiped a keycard through the little slot, before shoving it deep into his pockets once again and hoping very strongly that Pein didn't figure out that he _had _a keycard. It was always a bit risky, telling the front desk that he was "the Sohma couple's nephew; my aunt lost her keycard _again" _and snatching up a copy for himself, but, well…

Aw, who was he kidding? It was fuckin' funny, how Pein, despite his "infinite wisdom," never seemed to figure out how his peons kept getting into his room, no matter _what _precautions he took.

As soon as he stepped through the door, Deidara was greeted by a bright shout from Kisame, almost before the young blonde had actually managed to take stock of what was going on in his Fearless Leader's suite. "You look like _shit, _man!"

"Yeah, well…" Deidara shrugged, plucking at the tattered and filthy remnants of the monkey suit Pein had demanded he wear. It wasn't a huge loss. "Shit happens, yeah?"

Kisame and Itachi were both seated on a rather nice couch, giving off that "just a bit too close" aura Deidara was constantly freaked out by; the two partners had been around longer than any of the rest of them, excluding Pein and Konan themselves, and Deidara was certain that they could communicate telepathically or something. Itachi had his nose stuck in a book - as usual, Deidara felt a dear, fleeting desire to snap the book shut right on the bastard's olfactory center - and Kisame didn't seem to be doing anything.

Kakuzu was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Pein himself, but Konan was sitting primly on an armchair in front of the TV, focused just a _bit _too intently on the news. Deidara raised his hand at her in a half greeting; as he'd pretty much expected, she reacted by refusing to move a muscle.

…she was kind of a frigid bitch. In a group made up of almost _entirely _men, you would've thought that the sole woman would be a bright spot in their dreary lives of carnage and embezzlement, or _something _like that_, _but apparently, the Akatsuki wasn't that lucky.

Kisame was more than happy to pick up the social slack of the other two Akatsuki members though, and after flashing Deidara a slightly-too-toothy grin, jerked a large thumb towards one of the closed doors dotting the living room. "Pein's back there - expectin' you, too. Did Hidan tell you that, at least?"

"Yeah," Deidara said, after a minute of thought. "Kind of."

"Well, good," Kisame muttered, before following up with something rather crude about Hidan's ability to relay simple messages and, by the sound of it, reproduce - apparently, there'd been another disagreement, and Hidan's earlier sucking-up to Deidara was _probably _just a way to garner favor. "Better hurry, then. You already know your mission, but - you know Pein. He wants to make sure."

Deidara didn't grace that with an answer, as much as he would've liked to; Konan was rather unassuming to look at, and easy to forget about, but it was _hell _when you slipped up in front of her and dared to tell the truth about High and Mighty Pein. She'd either take you out herself - she gave new meaning to the word "paper cut," and was one of the best Watchers in the world - or report back to Pein with a startlingly accurate blow-by-blow of your conversation.

Neither was a pleasant situation, and Deidara had been through enough bodily injury for one day.

In an eerie manner that fit Pein's Creepy Mafia Leader Bastard persona to a T, the door opened before Deidara's hand was even on the knob - then again, since Pein was standing _way too fucking close _and had his own hand on the doorknob, it wasn't really the same effect as say, if he'd tied that handy invisible string to the door and pulled it open from the other side of the room.

If that was even possible.

Pein stepped back just a bit to let Deidara into the room - it was, surprisingly, well-lit; Deidara always felt like Pein's lair should've been dark and depressing as the man's soul - and then slammed the door behind him. Kisame's snickers - damn _it; _everyone who Deidara kind-of-sort-of felt slight goodwill towards was doing that today - carried in through the thin walls.

Neither Deidara or Pein was impressed.

"You are capable of going on your next mission." Pein, now standing with his arms crossed a few feet away from Deidara, _almost _made it sound like a question; Deidara was well aware that there was no intended question mark at the end.

"Yeah," he said, tapping his own arm and the back of his head in turn, "Kakuzu stitched me up."

"And you caused quite a scene," Pein said quietly, eyes unwavering on Deidara's face. It was hella uncomfortable, but looking away would have been a sign of deference, and Deidara had been avoiding those from the start.

Nose crinkling just a bit, Deidara reminded himself not to get riled in the least. Bad things tended to happen when you riled Deidara. "Yeah - well, there was an ANBU squad in the area. They saw me, yeah. There wasn't much I could do. At least I didn't get _caught."_

"This time. You do remember the last time."

Deidara blanched, but held his ground. He was _not _in the mood to take this shit, and he'd thought that everyone was _past _the fucking immature way they'd used to bring that up, how he'd been unable to be around _any _of them without him mentioning his mistakes - "Whatever. Has my mission changed, or something?"

Pein was silent for a moment, eyes still fixed on Deidara's face, before he answered. "No. You are still to find and either recruit or terminate the Sabaku Pusher."

"Then I'll go do that now," Deidara snarled, heading out the door and slamming it behind him.

He'd show them.

* * *

**lol, yes I deleted my author's note. Nobody gives a fuck anyway. :D**

**By the way, I don't update things unless people show interest in them. ;D**


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